Dancing to the End of Love
by Crinklybrownleaves
Summary: Based on the lyrics of a Leonard Cohen song. A Lucien and Jean story set after series 4. I wouldn't say it was angsty, but it isn't total fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**The idea for this story came to me when I was listening to a song. Leonard Cohen died recently, and his music seemed to be everywhere suddenly. My favourite song of his has always been 'Dance me to the End of Love'.**

 **I particularly love the Madeleine Peyroux version, which is easy to find on YouTube, if you've never heard it. I can't link to it on here, unfortunately, but just search under her name.**

 **Anyway, I've used the lyrics of the song as prompts for the different chapters. I hope you enjoy it. And do go and listen to the song!**

 **This first chapter is set just after the end of series 4.**

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Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin

Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in

Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove

Dance me to the end of love

Leonard Cohen

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Every day that went past seemed to shift their relationship a little, and not in the way he wanted. Lucien felt as though the ground under his feet was moving and his hold on Jean's hand was becoming harder to maintain.

Her rather desperate kiss as Mei Lin left was what he clung onto. He knew at that moment that she still loved him, despite all he had put her through. But as the hours and days slipped by, that kiss fell further and further into the background, and he came to realise it wasn't enough for either of them.

He wanted more of her. He wanted certainty, for her to agree to marry him, to have it settled. He wanted life to go back to how it was in those few precious weeks between Adelaide and the evening he could hardly bear to remember, when his wife came back.

He wanted Jean on his arm went they went into town. He wanted the ring on her finger to be his. He wanted the patients to call her Mrs Blake. He wanted her on his knee, in his arms and in his bed. He was impatient.

Jean wanted more too. She wanted Lucien to be hers alone, but she knew part of him would always be Mei Lin's now. Perhaps that would have been true even if Mei Lin really had been dead, but Jean didn't feel any better for knowing his wife, and perhaps even liking her.

Jean wanted an uncomplicated life; one where they could love each other, marry, and be together. Was that too much to ask? Apparently it was. Fate, or God, or maybe the war, had decided otherwise. Now choices had to be made, a divorce obtained, their lives examined by the townspeople. She wasn't sure she was up for the fight ahead. She was cautious.

So they worked through the days, drifting further apart and both powerless to stop it. Jean avoided the hand he offered as she got out of the car. She sidestepped his hand on her hip as she cooked the dinner, and turned her cheek to him when he tried to kiss her in the sunroom. And then she loathed herself for rejecting the thing she most wanted.

A feeling of fear, even panic, was growing in Lucien. He was losing her and could scarcely have said why. The more he tried to touch her, or even talk to her, the more she backed away.

He alternated between drink and work. The nights were for whisky, and in the daytime he found physical work to do, anything to keep him occupied. He suddenly became interested in the garden, and Jean found herself watching him, puzzled, through the sunroom windows, as he weeded the borders and mowed the lawn.

Jean turned to the housework for distraction. She cleaned the windows, dusted the tops of the wardrobes, wiped down the panelling in the hallway. The house had never been so clean. Yet she remained restless and unsatisfied.

One afternoon she found a patient in the waiting room, with tears running down her face. Jean offered a cup of tea, but when it was refused she sat down on the chair next to the woman. She scarcely knew her; she was a new patient.

"Can I do anything for you?" Jean asked sympathetically.

The woman shook her head and blew her nose on her handkerchief. "No, dear, thank you. No one can help me now. My William died last week. I thought we'd have longer. He went so suddenly."

Jean took the woman's hand. Inevitably her thoughts turned to Christopher, and her regrets. She wished she had loved him more, or at least better. They had wasted time arguing - time she had spent years regretting.

She patted the woman's hand and murmured something soothing. She really couldn't have said what she said to the woman. For the truth had suddenly fallen on Jean like a rainstorm breaking overhead.

She was wasting time now with Lucien that she could never have back. In years to come she would surely regret missing this precious bit of life with him. Mei Lin had gone, and that gave them a second chance, if only she would take it.

Lucien called the patient through to the surgery. He gave Jean a strange look. She had remained on her chair, looking thoughtfully into the middle distance, and she seemed unaware of the patient leaving her.

He shook his head, wondering, and turned his attention to the patient.

When the surgery was over, Jean appeared at his office door. She leaned against the door frame and watched him writing up his notes. Lucien knew she was there but didn't speak immediately; he was afraid she might be about to say something he didn't want to hear. Maybe she had decided to leave, perhaps go to Adelaide, or find a new job.

Eventually he could put it off no longer. "What can I do for you, Jean?" he asked, trying to keep his voice light and unconcerned.

She walked over and around his desk. "You can kiss me," she said. "If you want to, that is. I think we've wasted too much time already. We're not getting any younger, Lucien."

He pushed his chair back and looked at her curiously. There was an awkward pause where Jean wondered if perhaps he didn't want to kiss her after all.

Then he stood up and very gently, almost tentatively, he put his arms around her. Slowly her arms wrapped round his waist, and encouraged by this he started to kiss her - first her forehead, then each cheek in turn, and then her lips. Her lips felt like home. All his memories of those weeks when they had been so happy came flooding back.

For a brief moment Jean froze, then he felt her relax in his arms. She moved her hands from his waist and for a moment he felt left behind, but then she touched him again - fingers stroking his beard, the other hand on the back of his neck.

They lengthened the kiss till they were both breathless and grinning, then he was kissing her hairline, then her jaw, with tiny kisses that made her shiver. For long minutes they made up for lost time, till Jean's hair was coming loose and her cheeks were pink. Her fingers had found his waistcoat and the slow way she was unbuttoning him was driving him to distraction.

Jean breathed in the cotton smell of his shirt, yet underlying it there was another note of arousal and sweat, very faint but new to her.

Lucien drew his hand around her side, letting his thumb graze against her breast. Softer than he had expected, he curved his palm there instead. For a moment he feared she would pull his hand away, but instead she rested her forehead against his, catching her breath, before she kissed his cheek gently.

He wanted to ask her, why now? But the question was rapidly becoming irrelevant. She wanted him now and he was in no position to object. His lips moved against her, pleading with her to give him just a little more, and she stretched her neck out as he kissed it. Jean curved back, arms around his neck, and pressing her hips against him.

Even as he slid his hand down over her bottom and pulled her nearer, he knew this was the moment to stop. He looked her in the eye. "Jean...my Jean," but he didn't know how to finish the sentence.

She smiled as they slowly parted, just a little bit, so he was still holding her, but loosely now, more relaxed. She looked down and started to straighten her blouse, and heard him chuckling quietly.

Surely they deserved some happiness now, and he intended to make the most of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Oh, let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone

Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon

Show me slowly what I only know the limits of

Dance me to the end of love

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The afternoon sunlight was filtering through the curtains at his window, but Lucien wasn't sleeping anyway. He still could not quite believe the turn around in his life. A month ago he had been in despair, convinced Jean was about to leave him, but now his future had been transformed.

Since that afternoon in his surgery, Jean had agreed to marry him, and he'd spoken to a lawyer about starting the divorce. But the biggest change had come just a week ago, when Jean had appeared at his bedroom door late in the evening, dressed in only her pyjamas, and with a determined look in her eyes.

As her intentions dawned on him and he pulled her inside the room, there was a moment when she seemed to lose her nerve. Lucien dealt with that by kissing her thoroughly, and when he let her go she grinned and spoke for the first time.

"Do you mind?" she asked quietly.

"Mind?" he replied incredulously. "Why on earth would I mind? But are you sure about this?"

She nodded. "I'm sure. I don't want to wait any longer. I don't want to have any regrets about us."

He didn't need any more encouragement. So had followed a night of exploring and loving, and learning far more about each other. Lucien had been dreaming about this for months, and he was determined Jean would enjoy all of it. Just before they slipped into sleep, Jean confessed she worried about Charlie hearing them, and Lucien just chuckled quietly.

The following day Lucien took her to bed in the afternoon, shocking her slightly at first. It felt rather wanton to Jean, to make love like this; she should be working, surely? But Lucien reasoned with her that Charlie was at work, and he had no patients to see, so why not?

It became their habit very quickly.

So this particular afternoon found Lucien watching Jean sleep, satisfied and weary. He lifted the sheet covering her a little, letting his gaze make its way down her body. He was learning all of her gradually; where she loved him to touch her, and the parts she tried to hide from him.

He longed to run his fingertips over her breasts. He knew now how those curves would feel in his hands and how she would groan softly when he did that. But for now he resisted and lifted the covers a little more, seeking out the silvery lines across her hips, scars that showed she had lived a life before she knew him.

He knew from her shyness about them that the marks left by two babies embarrassed her, but Lucien loved her for them. She was a real, mature woman, and she had chosen him. How could he not love all of her?

He gently replaced the covers and started to turn over, away from Jean, but she spoke without opening her eyes. "My turn now."

He opened his mouth to object, but found himself giving way, as she opened her eyes and kissed his beard.

Feeling far more self conscious than he usually did, Lucien lay back with his eyes closed and waited to be scrutinised. Jean started tracing the pale scars on his shoulders and arms. She knew they covered his back too. The shock she had felt the first time she saw him without a shirt or singlet had passed now; the scars were part of him, and part of what made him the man she loved.

"Do they hurt?" she asked, circling her fingers around the raised scars.

"Not any more," he replied. She continued checking him over, playing with the hairs that curled on his chest, and then suddenly she ran her fingertips up the inside of his leg, with predictable results.

Lucien opened one eye and looked at her, mock-severely. "Jean!" he said, rather alarmed. "What on earth?"

She smiled cheekily at him. "Just checking it's all in working order," she said. Where had this new-style Jean come from, he wondered?

"You will be the last man I ever sleep with. I want to be sure I'm getting a good deal." He put his arm around her, strangely moved by her words.

"Each other's last...maybe that's better than being each other's first," he said thoughtfully. She rested her head on his chest and hummed her agreement against his skin.

They were just considering getting up when they heard the metallic click of a key in the front door lock. It could only be Charlie, home early for once. Jean sat up, alarm and embarrassment on her face. Lucien put his finger to his lips to warn her to be quiet, slid out of bed and swiftly got dressed. He then headed down the hallway to greet Charlie, hoping he wouldn't spot anything amiss.

Charlie wasn't fooled. The curtains in Lucien's room were drawn, there was no sign of Jean, and Lucien had clearly dressed in haste, if his crooked tie and messed up hair were anything to judge by. Charlie was essentially a kind man, but couldn't resist teasing Lucien just a little.

"Been having a nap, Doc?" he asked. "Has Mrs Beazley worn you out?" Lucien was rarely lost for words, but he found when he opened his mouth to reply, nothing came out. In the end he grinned at Charlie and shook his head.

"Not quite yet," he replied eventually, and headed off to his office. Jean meanwhile was dressed, and just waiting for the right moment to come out of Lucien's bedroom.

Armed with a pile of dirty laundry (an excellent housekeeper's disguise, she thought), she strode into the kitchen with a rather false air of confidence. One look at Charlie's face told her all her efforts were wasted and her face fell.

Charlie put his hand on her forearm, the first time he'd done anything so personal. "I'm happy for you both, Jean. And now you might as well move in with him, I won't be telling anyone."

Jean found she was already wondering if her clothes would fit in Lucien's wardrobe. She smiled at Charlie but then rushed away as her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. She would have to get used to that now. He was right, though, and she knew she wouldn't be spending any more nights in her own bedroom from then onwards.


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter is set some months after chapter 2.**

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Dance me to the children who are asking to be born

Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn...

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Lucien woke in the darkness and knew she was not there even before he reached out. Jean's side of the bed was cool and empty. The house was as silent as it ever could be, with just the occasional creak of old timber and the sound of the wind moving the trees outside.

He had a moment of panic that she had left. In the last few weeks he knew she had been distant, even irritable with him. But surely she wouldn't just leave? After all they had been through, she wouldn't throw away all they still had. Would she?

As the feeling of nausea rose in his throat, he heard the gentle slap of bare feet on a hard floor. Relief flooded over him, leaving him breathless. She was still there. He was being ridiculous. But how had it all gone so wrong? Just a few months ago they had been so happy.

He resolved to talk to her, to find out what was wrong, and why he was making her so unhappy. He knew he wasn't easy to live with, and he didn't fool himself that that had changed now they were engaged, but if anyone could see past it, it was Jean.

He sat up and listened again. She was in the kitchen, he thought. Glancing at the clock, he could just make out the time. 3 o'clock. Not the ideal time for a discussion that he suspected would be difficult, but he couldn't leave it any longer. That moment of fear when he woke to find her missing, and the anxiety that followed, had decided him. He loved Jean, and he had to know why she no longer seemed content.

In his slippers and dressing gown he walked silently towards the kitchen. He stood at the hatch, frozen for a moment by the sight of her in the half light. The moonlight through the window cast her into silhouette, and he caught his breath at the familiar outline of her figure from behind as she stood at the sink.

Lucien let his eye run down her slim figure, admiring the curve of her waist and hip, accentuated by the nightdress she wore. His breath hitched again with love for her, and this time she must have heard him, because she turned rapidly round to face him, fixing a smile in place as best she could.

In that instant, as she turned, as his eye was taking in all of her, he knew.

Suddenly all the distance, all the regret he had seen in her eyes over the past few weeks, made sense.

He walked into the kitchen and over to the sink in a few strides. He opened his arms to hold her and saw her hesitate for a moment.

"When were you going to tell me?" he whispered against her hair as she stepped forward and leaned against him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and sighed.

"I'm not ready yet." He felt as much as heard her sob against his chest.

"What did you think I'd say? Did you think I'd be angry? How could I be?" The love in his voice came through clearly, but this only made it harder for Jean.

"I knew you'd be happy. I wasn't ready to face that. We're not married, Lucien. A baby...what will people say?"

He hesitated. He couldn't deny this was going to be difficult. "I'm sure they'll say they always knew they were right about us. They will gossip, certainly. But that doesn't matter, Jean. This is about us, and our baby." A baby. He could hardly believe it.

"I'm not even sure I want another baby, Lucien. I'm too old, and there were other things I wanted to do. I'd thought we would travel a bit. That's not going to happen now."

He shook his head. "Very clearly you are not too old, Jean! And a baby will keep us young. It will work out fine in the end, you'll see. We can still see the world, if that's what you want."

She smiled at him wanly. Why did he always have to be so optimistic?

"Come back to bed," he said. "Come and talk to me. It's cold out here." His eyes pleaded with her.

Jean nodded and followed him slowly.

In bed, he curved himself around her back, resting his hand on her hip and kissing the back of her neck.

"What are you afraid of?" he whispered. He slid his hand across her belly, feeling the tiny curve he had not noticed until tonight.

"I wasn't a good mother the first time around, Lucien."

He sighed. "You did your best, Jean. You won't be on your own this time." This was a dance they would have to learn together.

She turned towards him and smiled the smallest smile. The fear that had clutched at his stomach since he first woke that night loosened its grip, just a little. In time, she would come round, wouldn't she?


	4. Chapter 4

Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn

Dance me to the end of love

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The letter from Mattie was a pleasant surprise. Jean hadn't had many of those in recent weeks, and so she lingered at the kitchen table, rereading the letter from her friend that asked if she could come home. Home. Jean loved that Mattie still thought of their house as her home, though she'd been in London over a year.

Of course they would love to have her back, but Jean felt a stab of guilt that she had not written to Mattie for several months. She just hadn't known how to tell her about the baby. Would Mattie be shocked? Almost certainly, Jean felt.

And there still seemed no prospect of them being married before the baby was born. The divorce was progressing, but very slowly, and in the meantime Jean's world was shrinking.

As it became harder and harder to hide her pregnancy, Jean noticed the glances people gave her in town, and the whispering that went on behind her back. Even the patients seemed to watch her more closely, not quite sure if their suspicions were correct.

And so, these days, Charlie or Lucien picked up the groceries for her in town, and she seemed to find excuses not to greet the patients at the door. She spent her time keeping the practice accounts up to date, sitting in Lucien's office rather than at her desk in the waiting room.

Blake didn't mind answering the door himself, but he did worry about the reasons why. He understood Jean's reasons of course, and he sympathised.

Being pregnant with your employer's illegitimate baby was bound to be awkward, at the very least, even socially unacceptable, but he couldn't change that. His frustration with his lawyer and the slowness of the divorce court grew daily.

So he was slightly surprised when Jean came into the surgery just as he was seeing out the morning's last patient. Normally she would have waited for him to come and find her. The patient stared frankly at Jean, who for once didn't notice the curious looks.

"Lucien, Mattie is coming back to Ballarat! She is asking if she can move back in with us." Jean's smile, so rare these days, lit up the room. She moved around the desk and perched on the edge of it, showing him the letter. When he had finished reading it, she kissed him on the forehead, out of sheer delight. If this was the effect Mattie's letter had on her, the sooner she moved back home the better.

"Of course she can, Jean, if that won't be too much extra work for you." Jean waved away the thought of a little extra housework. Mattie always helped her out anyway.

Jean wrote her letter back that afternoon and sent Charlie out to get it posted airmail. With a bit of luck it would arrive before Mattie's ship sailed.

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Mattie climbed out of the taxi and took a long look at the house she had missed so much, though she admitted to herself it was the people who lived there that she missed most. Lucien and Jean had been like parents to her, but parents who didn't judge her for her decisions, even if they disagreed with her about them. And she had missed Charlie too.

Lucien opened the door to her and his face lit up with excitement to see her. "Mattie! It's so good to see you. Come in, come in." He hugged her as she stood there, still holding her luggage, then took her cases from her and followed her along the hallway. "You're in your old room, but I'll take the cases up later. Come into the kitchen, and I'll make some tea."

Mattie hesitated. Lucien never made tea. She looked into the kitchen, then the living room.

"Where's Jean?" Mattie was only curious as yet.

"She's having a nap, Mattie. She'll come through soon, I'm sure." Lucien seemed to think this was normal, but since when had Jean ever slept in the daytime?

"Lucien, is she ill?" Mattie was worried now, but before Lucien could reply she heard footsteps behind her.

"No, I'm not ill, Mattie," Jean said, a little sadly. She was searching Mattie's face for her reaction.

Mattie's mouth fell open. There was no mistaking what she saw. "Jean, you're..."

"Pregnant." Jean finished the sentence for her. "Yes, seven months pregnant. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I didn't know how."

Mattie turned to Lucien, who looked pleased with himself. "Congratulations," Mattie said, but her voice held a question. Lucien looked happy about it, but Jean plainly wasn't. And this was a lot to take in. Mattie had to admit she was surprised Jean had slept with Lucien before they were married. Anyway, it was obviously too late to worry about that now.

Lucien poured out the tea and they all sat at the kitchen table, chatting about Mattie's journey. It all felt rather stilted. At last Lucien got up and took Mattie's cases upstairs, leaving the women alone. This was Mattie's opportunity.

"Are you alright, Jean?" she asked. "You seem unhappy about the baby." She touched Jean's arm in the hope she would meet her eye.

Eventually Jean looked up. "I'm not unhappy about having a baby, now I've got used to the idea, although I still think we're getting too old for this, but really the problem is that we can't get married, Mattie, and there seems no prospect of the divorce being finalised before the baby comes. I don't want anyone calling my child a..." She didn't finish the sentence, unable to bring herself to say the word.

Mattie grimaced. There would be plenty of people in Ballarat only too happy to judge Jean for having a baby outside marriage. "I know, I know," she said soothingly. "But babies are good news Jean. In a few weeks we'll be celebrating this little one's birth. That's more important than whether you and Lucien are married."

Jean shook her head slowly. "I want that to be true, Mattie, but some people are very cruel." A tear had started to run down one of Jean's cheeks, but she still kept her composure.

"It's 1961, Jean. People don't worry so much about that anymore. As this baby grows up there will be lots of children around him, or her, whose parents aren't married. It won't be so unusual." She passed Jean a clean handkerchief and poured them both some more tea.

"What else is bothering you?" she asked. Jean laughed, but without much humour.

"My feet hurt, my back aches, and I can't sleep at night for this one kicking me."

"So, nothing unusual then." Mattie attempted a joke. "But you do need to rest more, and let Lucien, Charlie and me do the work."

"I'm still the housekeeper, Mattie. It's my job to look after you all, that's what Lucien pays me for." This sounded crazy to Mattie, but she had to concede it was an unusual situation.

"You may be his housekeeper, but you're the mother of his baby too, so I don't think Lucien will mind at all, but you need to talk to him."

Mattie realised nothing much had really changed. These two still weren't talking to each other enough.

"Just think, though, Jean," Mattie continued, suddenly grinning and excited. "A baby like Lucien! Can you imagine?" That raised a smile from Jean at least.

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Over the next few days Mattie tried to help Jean as much as she could. Until she found a new job she had plenty of time on her hands, so she persuaded Jean to let her help with the housework, and she also started dealing with the patients and doing at least some of Jean's work as receptionist.

She also had words with Lucien. Mattie quickly found he was at least as worried about Jean as she was. So they soon had a new routine in the house for tackling the work and taking the pressure off Jean, and that also involved getting Charlie to do some of the cooking. All that went well, and before long Lucien had asked Mattie to take on the job of receptionist for a few months at least, which suited everyone.

But Lucien was also worried about Jean never going out, and he soon raised it with Mattie. She looked shocked - Jean was usually a sociable person, but according to Lucien she hardly ever went to the sewing circle anymore, and Charlie did most of the shopping. She was hiding herself away, ashamed of what people might say to her.

One day when there were few patients and Mattie and Jean were not really needed, Mattie suggested they went to get the groceries. Jean started to make an excuse, but Mattie was having none of it.

"I think you should come too, Jean. You know better than I do what to buy. And afterwards we can go and buy you some clothes, I don't think you can possibly let this dress out any more." She indicated Jean's summer dress, now straining at the seams.

As Jean went to object, Mattie continued. "I'm coming with you so no one will say anything they shouldn't." Jean gave in at that, knowing when she was beaten.

Half an hour later they were in a dress shop, looking for something that would fit Jean. Mattie plainly had very different ideas about what was suitable, and before long they were both laughing at their rather strange choices. After much trying-on and a good-natured argument, they found two dresses that pleased them both.

As Jean paid, she realised that for a few minutes she had forgotten to be unhappy, and she had even started to feel a little optimistic. She knew that was down to Mattie. Somehow her company seemed to shelter Jean from the worst of the worry and guilt she felt.

On the drive home she thanked her for making her come out. "I needed that," she said. "I needed the clothes, of course, but your company too." Mattie was pleased to hear the first signs of her friend's optimism coming back.


	5. Chapter 5

Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on...

Dance me to the end of love

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The divorce came through a few weeks later. By that time everyone's thoughts were more on the baby than a wedding, but Lucien was determined they would at least try to arrange to get married before Jean had the baby. He knew how much it meant to her.

Over the breakfast table they read the divorce certificate. It seemed rather dull and prosaic for something they had waited and hoped for for so long. Eventually Lucien folded it and put it in his jacket pocket.

"I'm going to ring up the registry office to fix up the wedding. Any preferences on the date?" he asked as he went to the kitchen door.

"Not on the day this baby decides to arrive," Jean replied, and he rolled his eyes at her affectionately.

"I can't promise that, you know."

Jean smiled at him and struggled to her feet to clear the table. To add to her woes, her hips had started hurting, and she was so, so tired.

She stood at the sink and washed up, thinking about the wedding. In theory, at least, the baby was not due for three more weeks. Could they get a date before then? And really she hoped the baby might be early; she was fed up with waiting now, and both her other babies had been early.

Lucien reappeared after just a few minutes and came up behind her at the sink. His arms still fitted round her, but only just. He leaned forward to whisper into her hair, just by her ear.

"How about this Friday? We have to give three days notice, and that's the earliest date they have." He turned his attention to kissing down her neck.

Four days. She could wait that long, couldn't she?

Jean smiled and turned round in his arms. "Perfect. Who are we going to invite?"

Lucien thought for a moment. He held Jean against him, and she rested her head on his chest.

"Well, Charlie and Mattie, of course. Perhaps they could be witnesses for us. Alice and Matthew? What about Christopher?"

Jean shook her head. "I'd rather tell him afterwards. It's too far for him and Ruby to come at short notice anyway. Could we ask Rose? She could take some photos."

They stood for a moment thinking. The baby, the main reason for the rush to marry, was sandwiched between them, and Lucien smiled as he felt it squirm and kick.

"Do you need a dress?" he asked, but Jean shook her head.

"No, I'll wear one of the ones I bought with Mattie. It doesn't matter what I wear, I just want to be married." She kissed him then, and as she smiled properly at him he realised how much he had missed her happiness. It was good to see it was back.

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 **With thanks to seven dragons for her research into twentieth century laws in the state of Victoria, especially the rules around getting married! Our legal expert...**


	6. Chapter 6

**A year later...**

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Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long

We're both of us beneath our love, we're both of us above

Dance me to the end of love

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Lucien let himself into the house quietly and took off his coat and hat. He looked forward to coming home to his family every day, but this particular day would always be a bit special.

"Is that you, Lucien?" Jean's voice drifted through.

He patted his waistcoat pocket to check the box was still there, and headed towards the kitchen. He paused in the doorway to watch them for a moment. His son sat in his high chair, bashing the kitchen table with a spoon. He was the only person in the world who could get away with damaging Jean's table.

Jean herself was cooking. Most days of his life he found her at the stove, and as usual he walked up behind her and put his arms round her waist. As he kissed the side of her neck, a voice interrupted them.

"Dada!" Lucien swung round and winked at his boy.

"Tommy, give me a moment." The boy looked puzzled, not understanding, but stopped banging his spoon.

"Happy anniversary, Jean," Lucien said with a smile. He took a small box out of his pocket and held it out to her. Jean stepped away from the stove and wiped her hands on her apron, then opened the box.

Inside were some earrings, gold with a purple stone, amethyst probably, she thought. She kissed Lucien on the cheek, then thought better of it and kissed him properly. "Thank you, they're gorgeous. I'll put them on later when I've finished cooking."

He pulled her a bit closer, kissing her gently and breathing in the smell of her hair.

"Perhaps not as good a present as last year's though?" he asked, nodding towards Tommy.

"Well, no, but spending my wedding night in labour wasn't ideal. He was worth it though." She laughed at the memory of that day. At least they had managed to get married first, by a few hours. She smiled at her fair haired, blue eyed son, so like his father.

Lucien eased the baby out of the high chair and balanced him on his hip. This boy had truly captured his heart and changed his life. Putting his other arm around Jean, he thought again how lucky he really was.

"He is the best present I've ever had, Jean. Thank you."

She smiled at him quickly, then nodded at Charlie and Mattie as they arrived for dinner. Suddenly the kitchen was filled with activity. Charlie dished up the dinner with Jean, Mattie entertained the baby and Lucien set the table.

A couple of minutes later and they were all settled, and eating, and Jean paused for a moment, looking at them and knowing her family was complete. Lucien, her two older boys, Mattie, Charlie, and Tommy, and Amelia of course. Not all related, and not all at the table with them, but all her family. She glanced at Lucien and thought about Li and her daughter; perhaps they should make a trip to Hong Kong before long, and try to put that relationship right.

While Charlie cleared the table, Mattie sneaked into the laundry room where she had hidden the birthday cake. When she walked into the kitchen with it, Jean objected, but rather half heartedly.

"Oh, you didn't need to do that, Mattie. He's one, he doesn't know it's his birthday." Tommy's eyes were shining in the light from the solitary candle, and he was enjoying being the centre of attention.

"That's not the point," Mattie replied. "The day he was born was pretty special, and we should remember it!" The cake was quickly cut and shared, and Charlie and Mattie made their excuses and left.

Finally Jean had a moment to try on her new earrings and admire them in the mirror.

"Thank you," she said to Lucien again. "And thank you for Tommy. You were right, he was worth all the gossip and awkwardness, and sleepless nights. And I see you in him every day." Her smile melted him, as usual.

"Considering we never intended to have him, and then he nearly ruined our wedding day, he seems to have won us over," he replied, tongue in cheek, and then he kissed Jean in a way that promised more for later; maybe they should put the child to bed and have an early night themselves.


End file.
